


Nerd Cred Is Not Real, Lucifer

by cthulhu_with_a_fez



Category: Hataraku Maou-Sama! | The Devil Is a Part-Timer!
Genre: because urushihara would totally be one of those elitist douches who put girls through a gauntlet, or at least until emi or maou or ashiya knocked him upside the head with sense and a largeish brick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 05:16:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1732487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cthulhu_with_a_fez/pseuds/cthulhu_with_a_fez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Urushihara, having finally gotten a job at a comic book store, has tasked himself with weeding out the unworthy - namely, those girls who can't answer the million and one obscure questions necessary for them to prove they're the real deal. Unfortunately for him, nobody bothered to tell him that the whole concept of 'nerd cred' is complete bullsh*t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nerd Cred Is Not Real, Lucifer

**Author's Note:**

> Ehhhh, it's short and shitty but it'll do. This fandom needs more fanfic, seriously.

Urushihara leaned confidently against the counter, dark hair covering one half of his face as he fiddled with the employee lanyard around his neck. He stared at the girl across the counter, a faded yellow Batman logo emblazoned across her tee shirt, and smirked. He’d get her on this one.

He’d recently found a job at a local comic book store, suitable employment for a self-proclaimed NEET, and considered himself an expert on all things under his domain – namely, obscure trivia regarding the content he sold. And, taking his coworkers’ warnings about ‘fake geek girls’ to heart, he’d become a self-proclaimed guardian of the store itself. They’d told him that the comic book community was near-exclusively male, so any guys that came through were accepted without question. The girls, on the other hand, were subjected to a gauntlet of increasingly-obscure questions to prove their nerd cred. And Urushihara had a lot of questions. Demonic intellect did come in handy, sometimes.

The girl in front of him now was almost standing at attention, a posture he recognized well from the army he’d commanded on Ente Isla. He’d even slipped back into a semblance of his ‘military voice’ to question her. She had given impeccable answers to each of his ridiculously apocryphal queries – he’d actually enjoyed himself. Worthy adversaries were hard to find nowadays.   
As he snapped out the last question in his extensive repertoire, one that no one before had been able to answer, he felt his confident smirk beginning to slip. She rattled off her answer rapid-fire, staring him down as she continued the dissertation he had prompted. His jaw slowly dropped as she took a breath to continue.

Almost a full minute later, her answer was finally finished. She glared at him, as if challenging him for another query, but he was at a loss for words. Well, mostly. Before he could stop himself, Urushihara blurted the one thing that was almost certain to spell his doom.

“Will you go out with me?”

The silence following his question was deafening as the girl blinked at him.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked, shock clear in her voice.

“Go out with me?” the fallen angel repeated breathlessly. He was pretty sure he’d said that right, according to what he’d read online. She was an excellent adversary, surely she would –

The slap he received mere moments later set his ears ringing. He stumbled, the corner of the glass display case digging into his stomach, and looked up in confusion. The girl’s face was contorted in a potent mix of fury and scorn.

“You… you absolute douchecanoe!” she hissed venomously, swinging her backpack onto the glass-topped counter with a thud. She placed her purchases in it with a surprising amount of care from someone so visibly enraged, continuing her tirade all the while.

“No, not a douchecanoe. Something bigger, more obnoxious. You, sir, are a  _doucheyacht._  How DARE you have the nerve to ask me on a date after you practically INTERROGATED me?” she continued, voice rising in volume as she hit her stride. “I don’t want to see you OR your misogynistic, supremacist, STUPID scene hair again in my LIFE, you – YOU MOUMENTALLY INCOMPETENT FUCKWAFFLE!” she finished, slamming the door behind her.

The cheerful tinkle of the bell was certainly a contrast to the vitriolic tangent she’d gone off on, he noted absently, touching the quickly-swelling mark on his cheek from where she’d slapped him. He stared out the window in the direction she’d stormed off.

“Hey, I heard some yelling up there. Pretty creative insults, too,” said his shift partner, head poking out from the back room. “What happened?”

Urushihara continued gazing out the window, a dazed smile finding its way onto his face. He touched his cheek again.

“I think I’m in love.”

He wondered what it would take to get her to come back to the comic book store.


End file.
